


SPF 30

by AlleiraDayne



Series: Bang Your Head (Metal Health) [18]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Day At The Beach, Fluff, M/M, Modern Era, Modern Thedas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 05:04:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6409984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleiraDayne/pseuds/AlleiraDayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Amallia and Amodisia in Val Royaeux for a week, Cullen and Alistair spend some much needed time together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	SPF 30

**Author's Note:**

> For the Modern AU day of Cullistair Week.

“CULLEN. WE’RE LEAVING. NOW.”

Maker, but the man was _impatient_.

“Can you just wait a damn minute?” Cullen shouted from his bedroom. “I’m nearly finished.”

“You’re getting slow, old man!”

Cullen glared at himself in the mirror, scrutinizing a spot on his forearm as he rubbed in the last of his sunscreen. “I am not old,” he muttered to himself.

Grabbing up his backpack and his baseball cap, he slipped on his flip flops and headed for the front door. Alistair stood there, tapping his foot in his faded university t-shirt and board shorts. With a roll of his shoulder, he hefted his backpack higher, then shoved the cooler into Cullen’s arms.

“You get to carry this, I’m driving,” he quipped.

“But, I—”

“Nope. I’m driving. I’m sick of you chauffeuring me everywhere,” Alistair interrupted as he turned for the door.

Cullen wasted a mere second before swatting the man on his ass with the back of his hand.

“Keep it in your pants, man, we’re not even to the beach yet.”

“You know we don’t _have_ to go to the beach. The girls are a country away. Nobody will interrupt us here,” Cullen suggested, voice a deep rumble, and he saw the distinct pink blush of Alistair’s embarrassment from his hairline down to the collar of his shirt.

“Yoooou’re insatiable,” Alistair shot back as he continued down the hall. Cullen followed, shutting the door and locking it behind him. “But I suppose I wouldn’t have it any other way. At least, not now that we’ve … figured this all out.”

Cullen chuckled, knowing perfectly well what Alistair meant. The last few months since their night at the [opera](http://alleiradayne.tumblr.com/post/136655579347/table-1-cullen-0) had been awkward at best, mortifying at worst. But with the last vestiges of summer lingering – not to mention Alistair leaving the governor’s office permanently – the four of them had finally had the frank discussion they should have had during the spring.

The four of them loved each other very much, but they wanted to take things slow, rekindle the relationships they used to know – or the feelings they had once harbored for each other – and see where it led them. Amodisia and Amallia were in Val Royaeux visiting a master’s program friend of Amallia’s. And the boys had stayed behind in Redcliffe, taking the opportunity to spend some much needed time together.

Cullen shuffled to catch up, backpack secured on both shoulders as he reached for Alistair’s hand. “I’m glad we figured it out, too.”

Alistair wriggled free of his grip and clapped an arm around his shoulder, tugging him in close. “Good. To be honest, I worried you would think of me as some sort of cretin. That’s why I’d never mentioned it, even in college.”

The elevator bell rang as the doors parted and they entered, Alistair punching the button for the garage. With an arm wrapped around his waist, Cullen squeezed him closer, so relieved that their awkwardness was finally behind them.

“I imagine I kept it to myself for similar reasons. And then there was Sia,” he added, doors parting for them again as it reached the garage level. “A part of me wished the two of you would have had room for me.”

“Cullen, do you covet _myyyy_ wife?” Alistair prodded with a grin.

“Maybe,” Cullen chuckled again. “Maker, but the two of you were the only thing that kept me hanging on when I was in Kirkwall.”

They headed for the car around the corner, Cullen settling the cooler between his feet as he sat in the passenger seat. Alistair held out his hand, prompting for the keys to the fastback and Cullen passed them over.

“Kirkwall was that bad?”

“Kinloch was worse,” Cullen replied. “There was nothing for about a decade of my life that made any damn sense. Leaving the Templars and joining Delrin at the firm had been the best idea ever. And it led me to Mal. Which reunited us. I can’t imagine being happier.”

Alistair started the car, engine roaring to life, and he pulled forward from the spot. In short order, they were exiting the garage and heading for one of Lake Calenhad’s more secluded beaches.

“We know what would make the both of us happier,” Alistair quipped.

“Alistair, Mal and I aren’t even married yet,” Cullen groaned. “Give us at least a year or two before you start talking about kids, I beg you.”

At that, Alistair laughed an obnoxious cackle, enjoying his embarrassment far too much. When his humor subsided, he said, “You can’t deny the idea though. Amodisia and I have been thinking, now that we’re done with the governor’s office, it’s about time we started a family.”

Cullen gave him a side-long look, an eyebrow quirking up towards his hairline. “Sia wants children?”

“She’s been _beeeeegging_ me for kids since we got married,” he drawled. “But that was right after college and I was running for governor at the time. Just wasn’t in the cards. She understood. I agree with her, now. We aren’t getting any younger.”

“True,” Cullen agreed with a nod.

“That includes you, too, sir,” Alistair shot back. “We may be older than you, but that doesn’t mean you’re still the twenty-one-year-old stud we met in college.” He emphasized his joke with a squeeze of Cullen’s thigh.

“You keep touching me like that and I’ll show you just how much of that twenty-one-year-old is left in me,” Cullen quipped and Alistair bit his bottom lip, not a word found for a retort.

The remainder of the drive to the beach passed with the radio airing a blend of jazz and funk, _Caravan, What Is Hip,_ and _Takin’ It To The Streets_. When they arrived, the sun hovered high in the sky, not yet mid-day, and Alistair parked the car as far back in the lot as possible, away from prying eyes.

“Ready?” Alistair asked.

“Yeah, just making sure I – hey!”

Alistair’s long, thick fingers flew to the back of Cullen’s head, cupping his jaw just beneath his ear. With a light tug, he pulled him across the console to plant a steaming and all too short kiss on his lips. Foreheads leaned against one another as their lips parted, and Cullen struggled for breath.

“Thought I’d get a least one bit of affection in since we’ll be in public the rest of the day,” Alistair whispered.

“Well, I know I won’t be going in the water any time soon,” Cullen murmured as he adjusted himself in his shorts.

“That was _not_ my fault,” Alistair chuckled as he exited the car and Cullen could only laugh as he followed, cooler in hand and backpack on his shoulder.

The beach, while not crowded, was still populated by several groups of friends and families with a few children running about. With towels laid out and an umbrella pitched in the sand, Cullen retreated beneath the shade, fair skin already burning beneath the blazing August sun.

“I’m going for a dip. Be back in a minute,” Alistair stated as he stripped his shirt over his head.

Cullen’s gaze lingered, following the lines of Alistair’s chest down to his softer middle. He recalled a time, nearly fifteen years ago, when he had been jealous of Alistair’s build. Wide in the waist where Cullen was narrow hipped, Alistair was built like a linebacker. But over the last few years, he imagined Amodisia’s cooking may have contributed to the _delicious,_ soft pudge that had grown around Alistair’s middle. And though he no longer envied him, Cullen found the man even more attractive than he had at first, all those years ago.

“Stop staring at me.”

Cullen shook his head in protest. “Why? I like staring at you,” he replied, continuing to watch and Alistair shuffled off with an annoyed grunt. His backside, Cullen mused, was still the perfectly muscled cheeks he remembered from their time on Calenhad University’s rugby team.

When Alistair dived beneath the waves, Cullen laid back, head nestled in the sand beneath his towel. Sweat ran from his brow into his hair and it curled in the humid air, framing his face. As he relaxed there beneath the umbrella, the sounds of the surf and the delightful scent of fresh water lulled him into a light sleep.

Until tiny pellets of ice cold water rained down from above. Cullen startled with a shout, flailing as Alistair ran his hands through his hair beside him.

“The water feels great. Come with me,” Alistair insisted.

“Well, I’m awake now,” Cullen replied. “Might as well.”

“You didn’t think I’d let you sleep all afternoon, riiiiight?” Alistair asked as he helped Cullen to his feet.

“A man can dream,” Cullen sighed as he stepped towards the water and Alistair followed after snatching up the Frisbee.

In the surf they ran back and forth, chasing their flips of the disc until Cullen could stand the sun no longer. His only recourse was to dive beneath the water, cooling off and rinsing himself of sand and sweat and stale sunscreen.

He resurfaced beside Alistair, water rushing from his hair as he pushed it back from his face. The dark, golden eyes of his closest friend blazed bright, lust and love alike reserved for later. A gentle hand found his waist, pulling him closer as he leaned in and whispered in his ear.

“More sunscreen?”

Cullen chuckled. There was something about the way Alistair talked to him regarding the most mundane things, making them sound far more interesting – sexy, even – than anything ought to be. And then it dawned on him that Amallia had the same knack for driving him wild with her voice alone. He nodded, Alistair waiting expectantly for a response, then followed him back to their towels.

At the umbrella, Cullen took a fresh towel from his bag and wrapped it about his shoulders, keeping out of the sun. As he patted himself dry, he seated himself on the beach towel beneath the umbrella, seeking refuge from the sun there.

With a gesture, Alistair motioned for Cullen to turn around, and he obliged, removing his towel from his shoulders. Behind him, Alistair knelt in the sand and popped open the bottle of sunscreen. Calloused hands, not unlike his own, began at his shoulders and rubbed the protective lotion into his skin. Along his back, Alistair worked the sunscreen in, ensuring ever inch was covered. Though he was finished, Alistair didn’t stop, slow, strong hands continuing to roll the tense muscles. Cullen groaned a soft sigh as he leaned back, thoroughly enjoying the sensation as the tension oozed from him with each swipe of Alistair’s fingers.

“Maker, what’s _wrong_ with you?”

A sharp jolt of pain shot through his ribs and up his shoulder as Alistair dug deep into the muscle. “Wha—hey! Ow! What is that?! Stop digging in my armpit!” Cullen gasped.

“Don’t worry, it’s just my thumb,” Alistair quipped. “And this is your teres major that’s all wadded up like a golf ball from hunching over a computer every day.”

“I know what muscle that is  _and_ I know why it’s like that, quit stabbing it! That hurts!” Cullen breathed, the pain sharp between his ribs. Relief washed over him as he sucked in a deep breath when Alistair released him.

“I could fix that, you know,” Alistair suggested, voice solemn. “I _am_ a doctor.”

Cullen turned to face him, finding a pained look there. “I’m sorry, Alistair. You can dig in my back all you want when we get home. Maker knows that isn’t the only knot back there.”

A wicked grin spread across Alistair’s freckled face. “I’m an expert at finding _knots_. Allllll kinds,” he whispered with a waggle of his brow.

“There’s one in particular,” Cullen complained with a feigned scowl as he reached behind himself. “Quite low. Might be in my glute.”

“I can take a look when we get back,” Alistair mused, devious grin spreading further across his lips.

Cullen smiled his own crooked smirk, enjoying their playful banter as he laid back on his towel once more.

“Sounds like a plan.”


End file.
